


Downtime

by james



Category: The A-Team (2010)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Angst, extremely mild hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 11:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: The team finally takes a break from working.  Face and Murdock have some quiet time together.
Relationships: H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck
Comments: 18
Kudos: 82
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Downtime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/remrose/gifts).

> So their relationship can be interpreted as sexual or not; but it is definitely loving. You are welcome to interpret their relationship however it suits you, I tried to leave all implications wide open. This story is very much rated G except for brief mentions of Face sans-briefs. ;-)

Face was in no hurry to get out of bed. They still had several days' off ahead of them – unless Hannibal came back from their grocery run with an unexpected job, which wasn't unheard of. But Face thought it was unlikely, since the entire team was still exhausted and in need of some real rest and relaxation after doing one job after another for the last three months. At one point they'd been working two jobs at the same time; Face had spent nine days juggling people and places and phone calls and personas like rubber balls.

It was rough, but they had to take whatever they could get, because the people who needed them couldn't always pay very much. The team had discussed it only once – accept jobs from the people with more money and find themselves working jobs of a much more questionable morality. It hadn't taken them long to agree they didn't want any more of that sort of thing. _We have the skills to actually do some good for a change, Hannibal,_ Face had pointed out. Besides, a little karmic balance couldn't hurt if they did get caught again and someone investigated what they'd been up to since their last capture.

But he didn't have to think about that right now. The day was warm, the sunlight streaming in through both windows, and there was nobody shouting in the yard for him to get his ass down here, Lieutenant.

Face was tempted to keep his eyes closed and stay right where he was – upstairs corner bedroom of a house that was technically being rented by Mr. and Mrs. Gable, a lovely older couple who were probably still thinking of Face as such a lovely young man, we should invite him to dinner, introduce him to our equally lovely grand-daughter. Face hadn't completely lied to them, handing over cash and asking them to rent the house under their names. He'd hinted that he might be an extremely famous author just trying to hide from his fans, winking and smiling and not actually saying names, oh Mrs. Gable I see from your bookcase you love mysteries, goodness that one seems to be your favorite, smile, smile.

The house was nice, though, paid for in cash and secured with untraceable smiles and charm. It had been Face's last job before he'd declared this room his for the duration and he'd let himself fall back onto the bed, stared at the blue floral wallpaper for the entire ten seconds it took to fall asleep. He'd woken up late that evening to find Murdock sitting in the overly-upholstered chair in the corner, reading a magazine in back-and-forth character voices. 

Now, Murdock was nowhere to be seen or heard. That thought was what finally convinced Face to push himself upright and drag himself out from under the blanket. 

A quick trip to the bathroom, then he headed out. The air was warm enough to go barefoot with only a pair of pajamas shorts – and those only in case B.A was lurking downstairs waiting to remind him what he'd promised last time Face had opted for a clothing-free vacation. He didn't _think_ B.A. would carry through, but he didn't really feel like chancing it. Hopefully B.A. would have gone to town with Hannibal, not trusting him to drive the van.

He didn't hear any of their voices, but he could hear humming from the kitchen. He angled that direction, past the quaint country side-room that someone had decorated with an upright piano and a thousand tiny china figurines. Murdock hated the room so much they'd had to rig up a curtain to hang across the doorway.

Face entered the kitchen – more quaint country style, all blue and white in a way that Face honestly found himself liking. He had never once in his life thought he'd retire to life anywhere other than a fancy high-rise penthouse, or Italian beachside hotel rooms, preferably with someone else paying the bill. Glamour and glitz had been his go-to dreams since he'd been young, sleeping four to a room at a group home.

But he wondered if maybe he hadn't known something like this once, when he'd been very young, before his parents had died. There was something soft about it that made him relax as he walked in, expecting to find the smell of breakfast cooking.

Murdock was by the stove, in fact, holding a spatula in one hand and staring down at what looked like a pan. He was still humming, nothing Face could recognise as a tune, but a happy and relaxed noise all the same. Murdock reached down with the spatula and flipped...nothing.

Ah. Invisible pancakes. Face let his feet make some noise on the floor as he walked over, wondering if Murdock hadn't found the ingredients for real pancakes or if he thought he was really making breakfast. 

Murdock glanced up and his face broke into a huge smile. “Facey face! Thought you might sleep until dinner! Then all these would be for me,” he added, gesturing at the empty pan. Face checked and saw with relief that the stove wasn't on. Murdock gave him a thoughtful, fake-evil grin. “That's a good idea! Go on, shoo! Back to bed, let me have all the pancakes!”

Face laughed. He let himself be 'shooed' away, angling towards the far cabinets. The empty can on the counter showed him he'd woken too late to get any of the last of the coffee, no doubt the reason the others had finally gone into town. He found cereal, but no pancake mix. He grabbed the cereal and took it towards the fridge, where he found no milk and no eggs. Maybe there was a reason Murdock was making invisible pancakes.

Maybe someone should have gone to the grocery store _yesterday._

Oh well. It wasn't the first time he'd made do, and he was too hungry to wait for Hannibal and B.A. to get back. He considered his options. “Do you want cereal with grape juice or water?”

Murdock tilted his head. “Grape juice, silly. What else would we use?”

“What else indeed.” Face grabbed everything and took it to the table, pouring himself and Murdock each a bowl. He topped up Murdock's bowl with grape juice, knowing he would want to drink the leftovers, while his own bowl got just enough to moisten the cereal – horrible, healthy bran flakes that B.A. had shoved at him last week, despite the fact Face knew perfectly well B.A. would never eat the stuff himself. No doubt B.A. had the good cereal hidden in his room, or the garage, but Face wasn't desperate enough to go looking. 

If they didn't bring home something better today, though, tomorrow would be a different story. He could sneak into B.A.'s room in the nude, and conduct his search bare-assed so if B.A. caught him, he'd get to yell about both things. It would provide the man with some much needed entertainment, and probably Hannibal wouldn't let him kill Face for the transgression.

Next time their vacation was going to be someplace with internet access – or at least a working tv. One minor flaw in Face's research when he'd selected the place, but in his defense he hadn't slept in three days and was sporting a wide bandage where a bullet had grazed his arm when he'd been looking.

None of the others were giving him too much grief about the place, despite the lack of television or internet.

Face sat down and coaxed Murdock over to eat his cereal. Murdock left his cooking easily enough, which told Face that he was likely self-aware enough to know he'd been pretending. Sometimes it was hard for Face to tell the difference, but he'd come to realise that it almost never mattered. Who cared if Murdock made invisible pancakes on purpose, or because once again he'd lost his grip on reality?

(B.A. cared, at least he complained loudly about it every time he caught Murdock being a crazy man. But that was more reason why they needed a working television set. Not even B.A. could tune and re-tune his van for three weeks' straight. That man definitely needed something else to do. Maybe Face should wander around naked anyway, regardless of what cereal they brought back.)

“Did you know,” Murdock asked, and his tone slipped into English Professor mode, so Face straightened up a bit and gave Murdock his attention. He could see a happy little smile dance briefly across Murdock's face, before he resumed his Stern Lecturer's demeanor. “Spoons were the first utensil created by humankind. Knives as well, but Europeans thought forks were blasphemous and refused to use them, instead eating with their fingers until the 16th century.”

“Really?” Face asked, smiling. He practically lived hip-to-hip with the man, and still Face had no idea where he picked these things up, or if Murdock was just bullshitting him. But again – Face didn't really care. He let Murdock regale him with stories about utensils and dining habits and trade along the Silk Road while they ate cereal with grape juice, and Face realised it felt like it was going to be a good day.

Murdock was smiling, his eyes focusing on Face with a sharpness that wasn't always there, which made Face think his strange lecture was probably true. He made the occasional encouraging noise, once or twice asked a question to prove he'd been paying attention – much to Murdock's delight. Murdock could lecture for hours if Face would only listen.

He'd seen the opposite too many times: people dismissing Murdock completely, ignoring or avoiding him, especially when he was at his worst, struggling with his mind and the world. Murdock never let it show if it upset him, most of the time he didn't even act like he noticed. But Face noticed, every time, and he saw how Murdocks' eyes would sometimes light up with delight, or how he would laugh with genuine pleasure, when Face engaged with him.

Crazy or not, brain-damaged or psychotic, faking or real, Face couldn't always tell. He didn't care. He'd realised a long time ago he'd rather walk alongside Murdock through whatever twisted and inexplicable paths he chose to go down.

Face settled in to learn more than he ever wanted to know about the Byzantine Empire, and wished for a pot of coffee while he ate his grape-flavored, whole wheat cereal.

B.A. had better bring back some decent cereal and milk, though.


End file.
